


Leftover Cake Crumbs

by onionrings_andhoneymustard



Series: The Cake Verse [3]
Category: 9-1-1: Lone Star (TV 2020)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Hand Jobs, M/M, Mild Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-11
Updated: 2021-01-11
Packaged: 2021-03-15 03:00:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28681491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onionrings_andhoneymustard/pseuds/onionrings_andhoneymustard
Summary: The third part of The Cake Verse, wherein Carlos says, "I love you." and T.K. unravels from there.Judd asks how he's feeling about it.T.K.’s shoulders rise and fall in a shrug.  He’s been trying to figure that out himself for nearly two days.  “I’m not sure.”“What did you say in response?”T.K. makes a face, shifting his weight.  “He told me he loves me and I… I told him ‘I know.’”“‘I know,’” Judd echoes.  “The response everyone hopes for when confessing their feelings.”
Relationships: Carlos Reyes/TK Strand, Judd Ryder/TK Strand
Series: The Cake Verse [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1896385
Comments: 6
Kudos: 46





	Leftover Cake Crumbs

**Author's Note:**

> This ended up being a lot more Feelings and Plot than I intended when I began writing it. I'd say it's PWP, but one of those Ps definitely took a vacation... Anyway. I like these boys and I like this universe, and I hope y'all like this fic.
> 
> (If you haven't read the other fics in the Cake Verse, I do recommend reading them first for context.)

They don't end up staying the night. Judd offers, and Carlos considers accepting - it's late and they're tired and the thought of just slipping under the covers is tempting. But he wants to take T.K. home and have him all to himself, so he declines.

Back at his place, he guides T.K. first into a hot shower, then a fluffy towel, then soft pajamas, and finally into bed. T.K. curls his body against Carlos, pressing close - hooks his foot around Carlos' calf, arms tucking in to press against Carlos' chest.

Carlos wraps an arm around T.K.'s waist, palm lazily dragging up and down his back. Now that they're alone again - in his bed, like most nights - Carlos can feel himself starting to settle back into himself. The quiet calm and energy that counteracts T.K.'s inherent chaos. It feels good, safe and familiar.

He watches T.K.'s face smooth out, listens to his breathing start to slow down. Carlos is fairly certain T.K.'s asleep; that's the only reason he feels brave enough to press his lips against T.K.'s forehead and whisper, "I love you."

T.K. shifts against him, and Carlos feels a bolt of fear shoot down his spine at the thought of T.K. having heard him. He's been careful - _so_ careful - about avoiding even _hinting_ at the depth of his feelings since their last fight about what they are, and what they're doing, and what all of this _means_. T.K. had seemed so _mad_ , that Carlos had almost missed the fear in his eyes. The fear is what made him back off, made him wave the white flag and not bring it up again.

T.K. stills, and for a brief moment Carlos thinks maybe he didn't hear him. But then T.K. is tilting his chin up so he can bring their lips together in a firm kiss. Against his lips, T.K. says, "I know you do.”

Carlos kisses back a bit more aggressively than the situation warrants, relief at T.K. not pulling away flooding him with a low level of adrenaline. Nipping gently at T.K.'s lower lip, he murmurs, "How romantic. You always did have a way with words."

T.K. smiles but doesn't open his eyes, pushing half-heartedly against Carlos' chest with the backs of his hands. "Cut me some slack. I just got spit-roasted; I'm tired."

"Oh, yeah? That's your excuse for Han Solo-ing me?" Carlos teases gently, pressing his palm more firmly against T.K.’s back to keep him close.

"Which one's Han Solo again? The furry dude?"

"Oh, my god…"

He kisses Carlos again, an impish smile tugging at his lips. "One day you'll get me to watch it."

"You always say that.”

"And I always mean it." T.K. presses his lips to Carlos' jaw. "Now _shhh_. I need sleep."

Carlos falls silent, eyes flickering over every detail of T.K.’s face. No matter how many times he takes him in, Carlos never grows tired of doing just that. In his mind, with sleep closing in on him, he shouts: ‘ _I love you, I love you, I love you._ ’

\-----

In the morning, Carlos is awoken by T.K. sliding back into bed and pressing up against his back, arm wrapping around his middle. He hums softly, resting his palm against T.K.'s forearm. "Where'd you go?"

"Coffee. It'll be ready whenever we get up."

"Good thinking. How'd you sleep?"

He presses a kiss to Carlos’ shoulder, fingertips tracing designs below his belly button. "Really well. You?"

"Same." Carlos isn't quite ready to get up, letting his eyes stay closed as T.K. continues to litter his neck and shoulder with kisses. T.K. is a warm, solid presence against his back.

"About last night," T.K. begins after a few minutes, hand sliding down to rest on the soft curve at the front of Carlos' boxer-briefs.

"Mmm. What about it?"

"Did you have fun?" T.K.'s fingertips begin to rub circles against the outline of Carlos’ cock.

Carlos considers the question, flipping it over in his mind. “Yeah. I did.”

“You seemed like you enjoyed yourself.” T.K.’s fingers slowly move from circles to long, easy, up-and-down strokes as Carlos becomes harder, T.K.’s intentions becoming clearer by the moment.

“Are you glad I did?” Carlos wonders, not quite sure how present he needs to stay for this conversation.

T.K. shifts behind him, getting a better grip on his cock through his underwear and giving a gentle squeeze. “I am.”

“That’s good.”

T.K. hums his agreement, biting Carlos’ shoulder and coaxing a raspberry-red bruise to the surface. He doesn’t say anything for a while, hand sliding slowly up and down Carlos’ cock. It’s a little awkward - trying to jerk him off through the fabric - but it’s doable. Besides, he likes the way Carlos’ breath almost-imperceptibly catches in his throat every so often, and it pleases him how he can feel a wet spot forming.

"Did you really think I looked good?" he asks as he finds a rhythm. "Taking Judd's cock? Sucking you off?"

Carlos moans in response, dropping his hand to rest on T.K.'s forearm. "Of course. The way you were just... Just listening and giving of yourself. You looked _so_ good."

He sucks another bruise onto Carlos' shoulder. "You really got off on it, huh? Seeing me with someone else?"

Carlos bucks his hips forward, trying to encourage T.K. to increase his pace. "Only because I was there."

Squeezing Carlos' cock, he says, "And because you were in charge?"

Carlos takes a moment to bask in the memory, the way T.K. deferred to him and looked to him for guidance the entire night. It had been incredibly satisfying; it had been rewarding; it had been downright _delicious_. He rubs his thumb against the inside of T.K.'s arm, rocking his hips forward. "That didn't hurt."

T.K. smiles against a new patch of unmarked skin and says, "I didn't think so." before sinking his teeth in. He moves his hand a little more quickly, taking care to not get too rough and inadvertently cause any chafing; it's a tricky balance.

Carlos lets out a soft groan, enjoying the way T.K. is taking care of him and claiming him at once. They have a general rule when it comes to leaving marks ("nothing on the neck") but some days, Carlos doesn't think he'd mind if T.K. broke it. If T.K. left a necklace that says, _He's mine._

Reaching his hand back, he grips T.K.'s hair and tugs him up. "Bite my neck."

T.K. pauses. "Carlos?"

"Please."

And T.K. listens, presses a wet kiss to Carlos' neck before biting just high enough the bruise will peek above the collar of his uniform. With T.K. sucking a mark into place, Carlos comes with a stuttering of his hips and a soft groan.

\-----

Michelle teases Carlos about it, later. Points to her neck and with a smile comments, “Looks like you have something, right there.”

Carlos blushes faintly, swallowing a mouthful of coffee. He’s not embarrassed, but he doesn’t want to seem as outright pleased as he is. “Yeah, I know.”

\-----

T.K. doesn’t see Judd until their shift the following day, although they don’t get a chance to talk privately until they’re sent on the firehouse’s weekly grocery run. T.K. is unusually quiet, spending too long staring at boxes of pasta when they both know the only types everyone agrees on are spaghetti and penne.

Bumping into him gently, Judd asks, “What’s on your mind?”

T.K. blinks a couple times, looking up at him. He considers lying and decides against it. “Carlos told me he loves me.”

Judd weighs his words for a moment, not wanting to misstep. He knows little about the intricacies of Carlos and T.K.’s relationship. But, he knows how deeply Carlos is invested, and he's picked up on how carefully T.K. maintains a space between the two of them. “That’s big.”

“Yeah.” He reaches up, grabbing a couple boxes of spaghetti and tossing them into the cart.

“How are you feeling about it?”

T.K.’s shoulders rise and fall in a shrug. He’s been trying to figure that out himself for nearly two days. “I’m not sure.”

“What did you say in response?”

T.K. makes a face, shifting his weight. “He told me he loves me and I… I told him ‘I know.’”

“‘I know,’” Judd echoes. “The response everyone hopes for when confessing their feelings.”

T.K. rolls his eyes, finally grabbing the penne off the shelf. “He wasn’t confessing his feelings. He thought I was asleep.”

“Ah.” Judd reaches for the pasta sauce, setting the jars in the cart. The groceries are a mish-mash of carefully-placed (Judd) and carelessly-tossed (T.K.).

"What?"

Judd pushes the cart down the aisle, spinning it tightly around the corner and into the refrigerated dairy aisle. "I didn't say anything."

"That 'ah' definitely meant something." There's an edge to T.K.'s voice; Judd recognizes it as the same one he gets whenever he feels vaguely threatened and defensive.

Judd stops the cart in front of the butter. "Look, T.K., Carlos _was_ confessing how he feels. You can't just brush his feelings aside because of when - or why - he said them. You acknowledged them; he knows you know. Downplaying that isn’t going to do either one of you any favors."

T.K. scowls slightly, scratching behind his ear. "I mean, I _can_."

"Uh-huh." Judd plucks a red carton of butter from the shelf before pushing the cart further down the aisle and toward the cheese. "That sounds like the mature way to handle this.”

T.K. doesn’t say anything in response, although his scowl fades. They shop in silence for several minutes, weaving through the aisles and into the open-floor-plan produce section. Judd can tell T.K. is thinking; he doesn’t mind waiting until he’s ready to talk again.

They’re standing in front of the onions when T.K. releases a long sigh. Judd raises an eyebrow, looking at him sideways. Finally, T.K. states, “I can’t love him back.”

“Why not?” He moves on to grab a bag of potatoes.

“Because.” T.K. waves his hands in the air. “Then everything will change. I can’t— He’ll want things that I’m not sure I can give to him.”

Judd forces himself to not smile. He likes T.K.. The kid is a good firefighter, compassionate, and smart - most of the time. Sometimes, though, he can be so damn stupid. “You know how you solve that?”

“How?” he asks quietly, following Judd toward the lettuce.

“You talk to him. You communicate. It’s really not that complicated.”

T.K. nods in response, falling quiet again. Talking to Carlos shouldn’t fill him with a strange twist of anxiety. Carlos has never given him a reason to be afraid to open up. But if he starts to chip away at the blockade he’s put up around his heart, if he starts allowing himself to be vulnerable, then he’s also opening himself up to be hurt. The thought makes a panicked flutter surge up his throat. Reaching out for Judd, he grabs his arm. “Can I sleep in your bed tonight? Just sleep.”

Judd is about to tell him no, because the beds at the firehouse cannot fit two people comfortably and he isn’t eager to start the rumor mill turning. But T.K. has that look on his face, and that urgency in his voice, and he finds himself saying, “Sure. Yeah. Yeah, no problem. You can sleep with me.”

T.K. exhales with, “Thanks.” and lets Judd's arm go.

\-----

They get some looks when T.K. slips into Judd's bed as the little spoon, but there’s not a peep out of any of them. True to his word, T.K. doesn't try anything; they just sleep.

\-----

T.K. heads for Carlos' place when his shift ends, letting himself in with his key. He knows Carlos won't be home for a few hours, so he throws a load of laundry into the wash and starts on dinner to occupy his time and thoughts until then. It works, for the most part - dulling the nervous twist in his stomach that had resurfaced when he woke up this morning.

When Carlos does walk through the door, it's with a tired smile. He stops by the stove long enough to give T.K. a kiss, before heading upstairs to shower. 

\---

They're barely halfway through their meal before Carlos sets down his fork and says, "Okay, what is going on? You're acting really weird."

T.K. looks at him guiltily, gulping down some water. Tapping his fingertips against the glass, he forces himself to say, "You love me."

He blinks, caught off-guard. That's not anywhere in the ballpark of responses he'd been expecting. "Yes, I do. And…?" he prompts, eyebrows rising.

T.K. looks down, away, back at him. This shouldn't feel so hard. It's _Carlos_. "Love is a… Love is a big deal. I…"

Carlos sits up straighter in his chair, leaning forward to rest his arms on the table. His voice is calm and steady when he speaks, quiet. "You don't have to say it back. You don't even have to feel the same way."

Nodding, T.K. forces himself to stop tapping his fingers against the glass. He swallows hard. "The problem is, I think I might. And I don't want to." Carlos opens his mouth to respond and T.K. continues in a rush. "It'll change everything and I like how things are right now. I like _us_."

Carlos closes his mouth. He isn't sure what to do with that. They look at each other across the table. After a few moments pass, Carlos clears his throat. "It doesn't have to change everything. We can still be us. You can still float, and I can still be your anchor."

T.K. shakes his head. "Things get serious when people love each other."

Carlos looks around the kitchen pointedly, turns to look behind himself at the living room, gaze lingering on all the touches of T.K. that have taken up residence over the past few months. The New York Yankees salt & pepper shakers on the table; his work schedule stuck to the refrigerator door with a magnet that Carlos never bought; the ficus in a corner; the hoodies perpetually draped over the back of the couch as though they’re afghans; T.K.’s shoes by the front door. He turns back to him. "I'd say things are already pretty serious, T.K."

“Yeah,” he agrees quietly, shifting in his seat and taking a deep breath in an effort to calm the warring factions in his mind. He wants the promise of what _could be_ with Carlos, and he’s terrified of a repeat of what _has been_ with Alex. It feels like a Herculean effort to brush aside the… the sheer _noise_ of it all. “Yeah,” he says again, “they are. I really enjoy what we have. But if I love you - if you’re my _boyfriend_ \- then there’s going to be all this pressure to go down a certain path. To do - or not do - certain things. I’m not ready for that.”

Carlos leans back, looking at T.K. consideringly. It’s not lost on him that this is the most forthcoming T.K. has ever been with him about what’s going on inside his head. It’s also not lost on him that now is not the time for reassurances, or for promises he has no way of knowing if he’ll be able to keep. “Okay, that’s fair,” he says slowly, deliberate. “Let’s just… Okay, let’s establish some facts first, okay?”

T.K. nods, taking a sip from his water glass. “Okay.”

“I love you and you love me. Do you agree with that?”

“Yeah.” T.K. looks back down at the table, tapping out a soft rhythm with his fingertips.

“Okay. So, we love each other. We can love each other and not put a label on things. We don’t have to be ‘boyfriends’ if you don’t want that. Or ‘partners’ or ‘lovers’ or anything like that. We know what we are to each other. I’m going to be here for you regardless.” Reaching across the table, he rests his hand against T.K.’s wrist, careful to not interfere with the tapping. “We don’t have to do anything we don’t want to do. If we were a book genre, we’d be ‘Choose Your Own Adventure.’”

T.K. snorts - both at the absurdity and the sudden, sarcastic earnestness of Carlos’ tone. “You’re ridiculous. You know that, right?”

Carlos simply grins, giving his wrist a squeeze. “I don’t care. It got you to smile, didn’t it?”

“Yeah, it did,” T.K. concedes. He turns his hand over so he can hold Carlos’ on his own. The energy has shifted, the dizzying intensity melting away to a more-peaceful vibe.

“Do you trust me on that?”

T.K. nods, tilting his chin up to send him a small smile. “I trust you.”

They’re both quiet for a minute until Carlos asks, “What are you thinking about?”

Rubbing his thumb against the back of Carlos’ hand, T.K. tips his head to the side. It’s been hovering in the back of his mind since the other night, a small part responsible for the inner-turmoil he’s been experiencing. “I think I might have an actual crush on Judd, and not just want to fuck him.”

It’s not the direction he was expecting their conversation to veer, and it startles a laugh out of Carlos. “Are you just now figuring that out?”

“What do you mean?”

“T.K.,” Carlos gives him a look. “You’ve been moony-eyed over him for weeks. The entire time you were ‘trying to get into his good graces,’ you were basically trying to woo him.”

“I was not!”

Carlos raises an eyebrow. “You made me show you how to make _biscuits_ because he mentioned offhand that he likes them. No one makes biscuits for someone if all they want to do is get in their pants.”

T.K. thinks it over for a moment. “Okay, so maybe that’s true.”

“It’s true.”

“You don’t mind?”

“Not really.” Carlos shrugs, picking his fork back up and stabbing a broccoli floret. Flashing a grin, he adds, “Who knows? I just might have a crush on him too.”


End file.
